


Between the Spiderwebs

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: Local Ace Loves Space (and three boys) [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Coming Out, Dork Lovers Server Challenge, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Insecurity, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 15:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18143984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Brian is happily in a relationship with his bandmates, he's just worried about what will happen when they want to be intimate for the first time.





	Between the Spiderwebs

**Author's Note:**

> Is this completely self-indulgent? Possibly. But I did write this for the Dork Lover Server Challenge! It's still sort of buggy, and I know the title is going to change, but for now, Enjoy!

Brian bites his lip. The sun is setting, bathing the library in a soft orange glow. His smoothie is starting to move from a viscous liquid to just a liquid and the whipped cream has already melted. On his laptop the screen saver shifts through the random pictures from his _Band (aka loml)_ courtesy of Freddie being offended at being in such a blandly named folder.

He watches a picture of Freddie being mauled by the cats at the shelter fade to a picture of the three of them. Even if he hadn’t remembered taking the photo, he would know it was his because he’s the only one, not present.

* * *

It was a long week of trudging through the Welsh mountains during an optional class trip to view the meteor shower. His back ached from too small and stiff beds, his heart ached from too going too long without seeing his friends. Brian had a great time, spending a week talking about the stars and staring at them but it lacked familiarity. There was no drummer tucked against his side whining about the dew in his hair. He didn’t have a singer’s lap to rest his head in turning sad great tragedies into comedies. Certainly, there was no bassist using his stomach as a pillow and having snores as his only commentary.

Regina Spektor’s _Eet_ trilled through one earbud, the other having broken sometime between Wednesday night and Thursday morning. His leg jumped the closer he got to his flat. The trip had returned later than originally planned, their charter bus had broken down somewhere along the M4 and turned a four hour ride into a seven hour one. By the time they arrived in London it was inching towards midnight, and by the time he said his farewells it well past one. Then he had to wait for an Uber because he was _not_ carrying a duffle bag across London this late at night.

So much for his nine o’clock return home he promised. He had the foresight to message the group chat, so they wouldn’t be freaking out, but it still means a minimum of eight hours before he can _see_ them again. Finally, he spots a familiar landmark, and he closes his eyes to _Hey Jude._

Brian doesn’t _run_ to his flat (he saves a few quid by stopping a couple of blocks away), but anyone watching would say that he’s a man with a place to be. The tug in his bones is practically tangible with how much he wants to be home. No wonder Freddie tried as hard as he did to have him stay home (not with any lasting seriousness this was a good opportunity to get into the professor’s good graces as he runs the master’s program).

He puts his key into the lock, but he is met with no resistance. It worries him, but he still enters the flat. The TV is on and Brian checks his watch, it’s a half past two. Considering the lack of screaming at his return, the others must be asleep. He toes off his shoes and drops his bag in the hallway.

Morning time is when he’ll deal with sorting for laundry. Brian always finds it strange when the flat is silent, there’s always some kind of noise be it from Freddie’s singing to Roger drumming on any countertop to John reading aloud from his textbooks. He uses the light from the TV to guide his way, but not before he locks the door.

His heart nearly melts. Roger, John, and Freddie are all piled up on their couch that is barely big enough for one. Freddie seems to be the unlucky one, ending up on the bottom of the pile, and Roger’s elbow in his stomach. Unsurprisingly, Roger has the most contact of the trio, wedged between Freddie and the couch with John mostly on top of him, his arms are wrapped around John’s waist. John is probably the most comfortable of the three, turning Freddie into a body pillow and Roger as an anchor.

Brian isn’t conscious of pulling his phone out, but he flips the camera and angles it just so, and there he has their faces and most of the cuddling in the frame. He’s forgotten the shutter was on and he ignores Jimi’s _All Along the Watch Tower._

Roger’s eyes flutter open, Brian’s not surprised, next to him Roger is the lightest sleeper (when sober). Brian smiles watching blue eyes squint and then widen, the excitement clear as the moon even with the tired edges.

“Brimi,” Roger slurs.

Brian kneels and offers a smile, “hey.”

“Miss you,” Roger yawns, “we all did. Wanted to see you.”

“Missed you too, we can talk in the morning.”

Roger shakes his head and his fidgeting disturbs Freddie. Sharp brown eyes meet his, and an exhausted open smile spreads across Freddie’s face. Somehow, he frees a hand and reaches back to pull Brian forward by his head gently. They press foreheads. Brian closes his eyes gently lulled to peace by the scent of home.

When he pulls away, fully prepared to go to his own room, he meets John’s green eyes. He must be tired because Brian can fully read the annoyance and fondness twisting together.

“Late,” John whispers.

“Couldn’t help it.”

When no other conversation is forthcoming Brian starts to stand. John tracks him.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed, and you three should too.”

“Nope,” Freddie says.

Brian blinks but then John is slowly climbing off the pile and grabbing Brian’s wrist. Freddie leaves Roger on the couch who is drifting off again despite the noise around him. He lets Freddie tug him down onto the floor, where he sees now a quilt was laid out. John brings a second one over the top of them. Once covered he feels something rustle down by his feet and groans as a knee digs into his calf. Roger’s head pops out and lays on the middle of his chest.

He’s never fallen asleep faster, with Freddie at his back, and John in front of him.

* * *

It’s only the chime of his phone that drags him out of his musings. The picture has faded to one of him and John wearing hats meant to resemble hedgehog spikes. Brian smiles and reaches for his phone and unlocks it. He hates having notifications on the lock screen considering how many times Roger steals his phone in a day just to check the time or take a selfie.

He’s a TA, there might be private information.

> **Misfits (in love)**
> 
> _Today at 18:37_
> 
> **_Rainbow:_** @Brimi home soon? 😘❤
> 
> **_Rainbow:_** Miss you! 😢😢😢
> 
> **_Disco Deaky:_** Band meeting when you get back.
> 
> **_Rainbow:_** Wait really? 👀👀 Since when?????
> 
> **_Disco Deaky:_** We’re in the same room, we just spoke about it.
> 
> I’ll be home in an hour. -Bri
> 
> **_Rainbow:_** ❤❤❤❤

Brian sets the phone down. The screen saver is now Freddie and Roger covered head to toe in flour after attempting to make John’s birthday cake and the broken flour bag on the ground as evidence. He knows what the conversation is going to be about. His hands shake and he doubles over and presses them against his eyes. Anxiety webs between his lungs making it hard to breathe. Someone drops a book and it startles him enough into presenting a calm façade.

He spares one more look at the laptop, this time it's him and Freddie painting each other’s nails and shuts it. If he walks home then it’ll take him a good forty-five minutes, and maybe he’ll work up the courage on the way. Brian packs up his materials, slow and methodical. Two students wait nearby, ready to claim the spot by the window.

The librarian nods at him on his way out. He fiddles with the wireless headphones John bought him for his birthday. They flatten his hair, but he doesn’t have to worry about getting tangled up in cords. His music shuffles to _Bed of Roses._ Brian inhales sharply and starts his walk home. There’s still a thick web of anxiety in his chest and it’s starting to work its way up to his head.

If there should be anyone, he’s not afraid to tell, it should be the band. They won’t judge him, but so many echoes of people telling him that he's wrong making the words sticky. There’s no way that this going to work with him in the mix anyway. Even though he knows that this is unavoidable, this collision of star systems. They’re caught in each other’s gravity. No, that isn’t quite right. In collisions, things get destroyed, this is building something new.

A supernova? The aftermath of that is beautiful.

Brian shakes his head, that’s not what he needs to be thinking about. They’re going to talk because the three times they reached that tipping point, he steadied them and nothing changed. He wants this so much, there are just something things he doesn’t want. Hell, if he can’t figure out a way to say it to himself then how is he going to explain it to them?

The opening whistles of _Wind of Change_ start playing as he nears their flat. He looks down at his phone in betrayal.  Things are no less settled in his head, but he’s running out of time. Maybe the band meeting isn’t about _them_ and about the band. Freddie probably landed them a high paying gig.

Then again, they just had one Saturday. They had been under the heady spell of performing and alcohol. Deaky neglected the dance floor in favor of plastering himself against Roger, who simply turned his attention to Deaky’s neck and painted it red and purple with love bites. Freddie had an arm around Brian’s waist, and as Roger and Deaky picked up energy, Freddie’s hand slipped lower. He remembers he muttered some excuse of buying more drinks and took off towards the bar.

What’s the saying? Two is coincidence but three is a pattern? Brian wouldn’t be surprised if they picked up considering he nearly always panics; the others are geniuses after all. He stops in front of their door. In his pocket his phone buzzes, Roger has sent him a snapchat.

Brian taps it open and sees that it’s a picture of Roger laying on the couch and a circle drawn around his head in pink.

> _There’s smthn missing here._ _💔_

He smiles and slides the phone back into his pocket. His courage bolstered by the picture. The door is unlocked, and he’s relieved because even though his heart is telling him there’s nothing to worry about, his hands are still shaking. The webs are crawling into his mouth.

“Brian’s home!” Freddie yells.

Some of the stickiness evaporates. He closes his eyes for a second as he steps into the flat. The anxiety is shoved back under the cracks in his mask. Brian’s face does melt into a fond smile with no effort as he turns the corner. Roger’s feet dangle off the side of the couch in mismatched socks (a banana pattern and music notes) and Freddie is twisted around grinning at him.

He finds John when he walks around the couch to see some elaborate braid Freddie is trying, the hair is tangled but John looks half asleep. Roger sits up and Brian sits down where Roger’s head had been.

“I’ve been watching John and Freddie all afternoon.”

“If you were lonely you could’ve sat in John’s lap,” Freddie points out as he twists two strands together.

“No, I wanted someone to play with my hair.”

Brian’s fingers start running through the blond mess. Roger offers a dopey grin and then closes his eyes. Brian watches Freddie try and detangle one of the plaits he made. It looks like he and John are in for a few good hours detangling tonight. John winces at a particularly sharp tug.

“Brian,” John calls.

He sighs, so they haven’t forgotten about the meeting and it’s about what he guessed it to be. His hand stops and Roger pushes into it like he’s one of Freddie’s cats.

“Yes?”

John twists and looks at Freddie for help. Freddie sets down the hair and looks at Brian. He starts building up the explanation in his mind, sort of reminding himself of a Jenga tower, his chest stops moving and Roger cracks an eye up at him.

“Are you okay?”

Air flows out of him. The explanation topples as he tries to pick up the mental pieces. It wasn’t what he was expecting and now he’s not sure how to navigate the conversation. Roger reaches up and places a hand on his cheek. There’s no movement but Brian uses that to ground himself.

“I’m no worse than usual,” he settles on.

“That’s not a yes,” Roger murmurs.

“I’m doing alright,” he smiles.

He laughs when Freddie smacks his arm. It eases some of the tension in the room, even if he’s receiving a sleepy glare from Deaky.

“Did something happen then?” Freddie asks.

“Nothing,” he shrugs.

Roger presses his fingers against his cheek minutely.

“Then,” John starts hauntingly slow, “why do you always react like we’ve done something wrong when, well, you know.”

Brian closes his eyes and leans his head back. A string of tension feels the room, and he knows what it feels like to be a rubber band about to snap. Roger shifts and the moves off him, but Brian catches his wrist I a gentle grasp. Instead, he sits in Brian’s lap with his nose against Brian’s neck.

“It isn’t you.

_Okay. Bad way to start._

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that, I can’t imagine what you thought.”

Freddie hums.

Brian breathes in and holds for a half a minute at least. His nerves are still threaded through webs. He doesn’t know why this is so hard, it’s not like he’s ashamed but there are so many ways that this could go wrong.

“Bri?” Roger whispers.

He opens his eyes but keeps them staring straight at the ceiling, “I love this, I love you three-”

_Oh, that’s the first time that the L word’s been mentioned with any seriousness_

“I just don’t love sex?” Brian bites his lip, “that isn’t right, I’m not interested in sex.”

“At all or with us?” John’s voice is soft.

“At all.”

He gives it a minute and then he looks down at the contemplative faces of Freddie and John. Roger’s finger is tapping in time with his heartbeat, which is fast. Some of the webbings are being torn away.

“But you like the kissing and hugging right?” Roger’s voice is threaded high.

“Yes, I’d spend all day kissing and cuddling you three if possible.”       

Freddie’s eyes are still narrowed. Brian bites his cheek, which earns him a poke from Roger. He releases the flesh from his teeth but then goes right back to biting his tongue, at least Roger can’t tell as much.

Freddie finally speaks, “would you have a problem with us having sex?”

Brian shakes his head, “no. Just as long as I’m not in the room during it?”

Roger curls around Brian, “but you’d be here for foreplay and after?”

“I think so,” Brian shrugs, “I’ve never gotten this far in a relationship or had anyone willing to work with it.”  
A frown mars John’s face. Freddie leans over and wraps around Brian’s shoulder.

“Lucky us, that they were dumbasses who thought sex is everything.”

Brian tilts his head down and presses his forehead against Freddie’s. He feels John move his legs and then sit between them. It’s going to be uncomfortable soon, but he lets out a long breath of relief.

They’re still willing to be with him. They’re willing to work with him. He’s sure it’s not going to be easy finding that balance, but then he feels Roger press a kiss against his throat and John tighten his hand around his calf.

Freddie pulls back a little, “you know there’s a term for you, right?”

Brian blinks, “a term?”

“Like being gay or bi or trans,” Freddie elaborates.

He tilts his head, and Roger takes advantage of the new skin to nose and kiss at.

“There is?” This isn’t just a him thing?

“Yeah, I can look into if you want me too. Maybe someone I know would be able to help us…with this. I don’t want to mess this up, so we’re going to have to communicate.”

Brian flushes at the pointed look at him, “that’d be great Fred.”

“Mm,” John hums, “I think we should move this cuddle session to the bed, the floor is starting to hurt.”

“We can’t have that,” Freddie coos.

Freddie stands and pulls John up with him. Roger grumbles as he climbs off Brian’s lap. Brian is slower to stand, but now that John’s standing up, he can see the extent of the damage that Freddie caused in John’s hair.

“Actually, we might need to detangle John’s hair first.”

“That’s fair,” Roger says after a moment of staring at John.

John touches his hair hesitantly as Freddie looks away ashamed.

“We’ll take care of this,” Brian says, “you two want to warm up the bed?”

Roger grabbed Freddie’s wrist and dragged him away towards their bedroom. John leans into him, Brian wraps around him.

“We still love you,” John mumbles, “we thought that we had done something wrong or that something had happened to you to make you so jumpy.”

“I’m sorry,” Brian kisses John’s temple, “I should’ve told you, but I was scared that you would leave me, and I really haven’t come to terms with it either.”

“We didn’t force you, did we?”

“No, I wanted to tell you.”

John hums and leans against him again, “now let’s go take care of this mess Freddie caused.”

“It might hurt.”

“So long as you don’t leave me bald, I think we’ll be okay.”

There was an undercurrent of heaviness to the statement. Brian drops his arm to go around John’s waist and starts to drag them both to the bathroom. They had plenty of time to figure it out after all.

**Author's Note:**

> As always leave your thoughts and comments below! Or come yell at me on tumblr!  
> Also, I was lowkey tired of only seeing John being written as asexual, so I fixed it. I needed a little more of my own representation in my life.


End file.
